


Life After This

by NekoIzumi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, BAMF Chris Argent, BAMF Derek, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Happy Ending, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Mind the angst?, Non-Graphic Gore, Non-Graphic Violence, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 01:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoIzumi/pseuds/NekoIzumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feeling his weight shift backwards over the ledge when another bullet hit, Stiles closed his eyes and whispered the name of his beloved as he fell.<br/>“Derek…”</p>
<p>Derek woke up with an agonising scream, his body curling in on itself in pain. He wasn’t aware of having wolfed out, he didn’t know he was clawing himself as he clutched at his head, willing the agony to go away… but to no avail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life After This

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer; I don’t own Teen Wolf, I don’t want to. Neither do I profit from writing this fic.

Stiles wheezed where he was running down the street, constantly checking over his shoulder to see if he was still followed, if he was still chased like a fox by the hounds. Sadly, he still was. The guy just wouldn’t get lost, wouldn’t lose him in the crowd no matter how hard Stiles tried. Grinding his teeth against the nausea, Stiles pressed a hand to his bleeding wound and kept on running. There _had_ to be a way to get away from this guy, there had to be! Pressing out a hasty apology to the lady he nearly bowled over he ducked into a doorway and hurried up the stairs so he wouldn’t be seen through the windows. Much to his horror though a few minutes later he heard the unmistakable sound of his pursuer forcing himself in through the door passed the same old screeching lady and thundering up after him.

Stiles couldn’t stop the whine when he reached the top floor and there was nowhere else to go, there was no elevator and his chaser was steadily gaining on him, where to go, where to go!? Knowing it was futile but not willing to give up if there was as much as a smidge of a chance, Stiles tore open the door to the attic and slammed it behind him, squeezing himself between boxes with Christmas decorations and old dusty furniture to get further in, to get to the door at the other end and out on the roof… where there was nowhere else to go. He was trapped. Slowly he turned around, meeting the madness in a pair of laughing eyes over the cold steel of a barrel.

Feeling his weight shift backwards over the ledge when another bullet hit, Stiles closed his eyes and whispered the name of his beloved as he fell.

_“Derek…”_

 

-

 

Derek woke up with an agonising scream, his body curling in on itself in pain. He wasn’t aware of having wolfed out, he didn’t know he was clawing himself as he clutched at his head, willing the agony to go away… but to no avail. He wasn’t aware of the pack bursting in through the door either, wolfed out and ready for fighting. What they found was their Alpha, screaming, again and again and again because it hurt, everything _hurt_ and it felt as if his skin was peeling off and his head was shattering.

“Derek, what's happening, what's wrong!?”

“Derek, talk to us!”

But none of them got an answer and when they tried to get closer the Alpha moved away from their touch, flinching if they got too close… but soon the screaming died out, turning into heart-breaking sobs instead.

“Stiles…” he pressed out, tears rolling down stubbled cheeks, but he wasn’t aware of a single one falling. “I can’t feel him anymore, I can’t feel our bond. It’s broken, it’s gone!” Sobbing harder and still clutching at his head, Derek rocked back and forth, not really aware of anything around him, only that the place at the back of his mind that had always been filled with joy and energy and _love_ was suddenly empty and silent. “I can’t feel-… I heard-… I think he's-…” he pressed out, the closest to a panic attack he had ever been. “There’s no bond!”

“He’s not answering his phone.” Scott pressed out worriedly, seeing in the corner of his eye how Boyd shook his head, his phone in hand. Isaac whined pitifully, literally crawling closer to the older wolf, more or less worming his way into his Alpha’s arms in his effort to comfort and soothe. Isaac always had been the most sensitive one out of all of them. Erica curled up behind Derek, trying to will him to calm down by rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, holding him hard as she did so because he wasn’t really listening.

 

“Boyd, keep calling. See if you'll get through eventually.” Scott said lowly, feeling a coil in his gut pull tighter and tighter with every ring that went unanswered. “Text him, leave voicemail, all of it. If this is another one of those witches then we have to get hold of him and fast.” Drawing a deep breath he called Allison. Since the pack that settled down years ago and the truce between the Argents and Hales had turned into official peace, she had moved in with Scott into one of the rebuilt wings of the Hale-house but tonight of all nights she had gone home to spend some time with her dad.

“Allison? Something's wrong with Derek, can you come home? Uh yeah, bring Chris, maybe he knows what's going on? Right, drive carefully.” Hanging up he turned to Derek but Erica just shook her head, clinging harder to her Alpha. He hadn’t stopped rocking back and forth… and he hadn’t stopped sobbing.

 

-

 

A few hours later they got the call, a calm voice asking them if they could come to Los Angeles to identify a body, to see if it was indeed G. ‘Stiles’ Stilinski because there had been no ID on the victim. Derek had completely lost it because up to that point he had told himself it was just some spell, just another coven of witches who hated werewolves, that’s all it was, just another coven, they'd fix it and he'd get his mate bond back. When John, as desperate and shattered as Derek, stepped through the door and saw how distraught the Hale was, it hit them both just how bad the situation was. Because there was no way for both of them to have been called in if the police in LA wasn’t sure, now it was just a formality really.

So they were packed into two cars, neither father nor mate allowed to drive, and the entire pack, save for Lydia who was abroad on business, went down to LA.

 

-

 

The detective who met them at the station was the epitome of a clichéd cop, used to handling murder victim’s families. She was calm, gentle, spoke in a mellow voice but with a core of steel underneath the surface. She told them the _body_ was in a poor condition after a fall from a tall building and that only the closest family was allowed in to see it… but right outside the doors to the morgue Derek stopped and wouldn’t budge. He looked like he had seen a ghost he was so pale. His hands trembled uselessly by his sides.

“I can’t!” he pressed out. He already knew because he could pick up the barest hint of his mate’s scent in the air. Stiles didn’t belong in a place like this, he belonged out in the sun, alive and laughing! “That’s not how I want to remember him!”

“Derek, don’t make me go in there alone.” John pleaded lowly, desperately. “Don’t make me go in there and see my only son in a morgue drawer.”

“I'll go with you, Sheriff.” Jackson murmured walking up to the older man, Erica taking the Stilinski's other arm.

The three of them went with the woman, Derek remaining outside, waiting, listening… he closed his eyes when he heard his father-in-law’s desperate cries not two minutes later. It hadn’t really been real before, it had been a nightmare that he so desperately wanted to wake up from, but now… now it was real, now they knew that it was Stiles, _their_ Stiles in there. Next to him Scott sobbed wrecked sobs into Allison's and Melissa's arms, Isaac was crying silently right next to them and behind him a tear rolled down Boyd's cheek as he refused to meet Derek's eyes. Derek himself was numb though, his senses dulled and muted somehow. It felt like he was underwater, things were blurry, slurred, he was so confused. No, this wasn’t right, this wasn’t right at all! Derek and Stiles had each other’s backs, they covered for each other, that’s what they did, what they were and had been doing the past 12 years.

Only Derek hadn’t been able to go with Stiles this time, he'd been prevented because of work and Stiles had kissed him and smiled and said that it was just another boring CSI-conference about technical mumbo-jumbo, that he'd be _just fine_. And now he was dead because Derek hadn’t been there to _protect_ him!

 

Still so horribly confused, he blinked dazedly when John and the Betas came out from the other room… and Jackson abruptly ripped the top of a bin and vomited violently. Erica was clinging to the Sheriff, crying openly. She wouldn’t look at Derek either and John… John was completely destroyed.

“Mr Hale?” the detective asked softly, obviously noticing the shock he was in. “I've got some questions about why Mr Stilinski was-”

“Hale.” he interrupted her.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Stilinski- _Hale._ ” he managed to get out somehow. It was easier to focus on trifles right now. “His name is Stiles Stilinski- _Hale._ ”

“Yes, of course, I apologise.” the woman nodded. “It’s just something I don’t understand. Before Mr Stilinski-Hale fell off the roof he had been shot multiple times, to his side and abdomen, with silver bullets… and aconite powder?” She frowned when the entire group unanimously flinched and stared at her. “Do you know why? Because we’re confused and we've never seen such a case before, it’s like someone truly thought he was a vampire or something.”

 

“Where?” Derek's voice was suddenly steady, as he fixed the woman with a calm look. “Where did you find him?” He didn’t wait for her to explain, once he had gotten the address he was out the door, Chris right on his heels. Neither glanced at the other but they both knew what had killed Stiles. Hunters.

 

-

 

Derek had never really understood his uncle’s madness after the fire, he hadn’t understood where the manic rage came from even when Derek had started a new pack, when there were new members to take care of and worry about. Now he did, now he knew how Peter had felt when his mate burned alive and he was unable to do anything, how he was unable to help her, how lost he had been. Now he knew what it was like to lose your only anchor to humanity, to hang on to sanity by the very fingertips… and lose that too but not really caring anymore. Oh yes, _now_ he knew… and his wolf wanted blood, warm and pulsing, more and more for every beat of a slowly dying heart. He was going to track the Hunter down and he was going to rip him limb from limb while he screamed, keeping him alive for as long as possible to suffer longer.

“They’re probably rogues, new ones.” Chris muttered as he struggled to keep up with the wolf. “There’s no way seasoned Hunters would've made such rookie mistakes and drawn the public eye to themselves.”

“I don’t care one way or the other.” The reply was almost subsonic at that point. Derek used every ounce of control he had not to simply shift where he was walking. “He’s mine… and you know it.”

The Argent couldn’t really say anything to that because he knew just as well as the Alpha that it was true. Whoever had done this was fair game now, at least for Derek. So instead he remained silent, followed the wolf to where the crime scene was still closed off and shielded from view from curious spectators, the stench of blood spilt thick in the air.

 

Derek wanted so dearly to whimper when he picked up on it, whine and curl up and _mourn_ but not now, now he was on the hunt. Revenge was rightfully his now and he was going to get it at any cost, be so sure. He found the building, ground his teeth when it hit him it was the exact same building from his nightmare from less than 24 hours earlier, focused on the many different scents, trying to sort them out. He caught the whiff of wolfsbane and followed it, one goal in mind. **Kill**. Yes indeed, Derek could empathise with his uncle now because if he hadn’t already been an Alpha he too would've killed the closest one in cold blood to get the power he needed to get his revenge. He had always thought that werewolves were half-human, half-wolf, the best of two creatures but he knew now that that was wrong. Werewolves were feared because they were half-human, _half-beast,_ they were _monsters_. There was nothing ‘pure animal’ about them because they _did_ have a human’s cold intellect, even when they went feral, he saw that now. _He_ was a monster… and he was _fine_ with that.

 

He growled when the scent got stronger, a male, young, arrogant, sweaty from running, smug, satisfied with his _kill_ , leading him and the crew Chris had called in to a shady bar a mere hour from where Stiles had fallen to his death. Before they entered the bar Derek turned to the older man, fixing him with his gaze. He was fully aware of a chill running down Chris’ spine but cared little for it. Long gone were the days when he feared the Argent. Now he feared nothing.

“Do what you want with the others but the shooter is mine.”

He didn’t wait for the other to reply, merely tore the door open and stepped inside, immediately zooming in on the one scent that meant the most right now. And what it would lead him to.

 

The man who had murdered Derek's mate wasn’t more than a punk, a kid around 20 years old, smoking weed while bragging about how he had ‘taken down a beast all by himself’. He laughed as he described how he had chased his prey like a ‘widdle wabbit’ down the streets, enjoying himself royally while doing it and wasn’t he ‘the man’ for having taken down a nasty werewolf on his very own? Pfft, they weren’t half as dangerous as they thought they were and this way he'd make tonnes of moneh, amirightmahman? Yeah, he was a fucking hero!

 

He blinked when the Hale sat down in front of him after having pushed a guy off his chair rudely. Silence filled the bar as the young man’s chuckle died out into a confused ‘uh, wha-?’ although Chris and his men might’ve had something to do with the tension… as well as the glowing blood red eyes trained on the young guy.

“Tell me…” Derek almost purred at this point, his voice a low hum in the otherwise silent bar. He could smell the confusion… and the sudden fear rolling off of the man in front of him when he realised exactly what it was he was facing. Not so much ‘the man’ now, huh? “When you took down the ‘beast’ earlier today, did you know he was a member of a pack, _my_ pack?” Fangs elongated in his mouth, cutting his lip but Derek couldn’t have cared less. If anything, a little blood on sharp canines scared the shit out of the guy faster. “Did you know that Hunters aiming for mates belonging to peaceful packs are fair game for wolves, the _Code_ states that much. You know about the _Code_ , right? You know, the _rules_ that Hunters and Weres follow so they can live together peacefully on this planet?” He leaned closer, smiling a bone chilling smile, his reflexes so much faster when he grabbed the guy by the wrists before he could come anywhere near any weapons and easily broke them both. They snapped like twigs. “The guy you killed was _human_ , he was _my mate_ … and you shot him with silver- and wolfsbane-bullets designed for _me._ ” He ignored the screaming with the same morbid ennui his uncle used to display, ignored how the real Hunters easily had the rest of the little fella’s buddies reconsidering with a few well-aimed guns. “…and now you're my rightful _prey._ You want to hunt beasts? I'll show you a _real_ beast.” The smile he flashed soon earned him the stench of piss from underneath the table.

The guy didn’t stand a chance when Derek punched him in the face hard and carried him out of there without another word. He was more than happy to leave the mess to Chris.

 

-

 

Days later, when the Argent and his crew had dumped three well-beaten men on the detective’s threshold, when John had been brought home by Melissa and actually sedated because he wouldn’t stop crying, when Lydia had jumped on the first plane back home after a low-voiced Jackson had told her what happened, the pack finally found Derek's Camaro, sloppily parked far out into the preserve with the keys still in the ignition. The battery was long dead and as they followed the trails further into the woods they could only imagine the scenario which had taken place. Derek's cherished leather jacket, the only thing he had left of his father, they found shredded into pieces and strewn around a clearing, along with the rest of his clothes… or what remained of them. As they followed the faint scent of their Alpha they stumbled across pieces of a hand, and then the other, a large chunk of flesh not long after that, probably ripped from a thigh, a foot… the area over which they found remains of the Hunter was huge. Not one bone was intact… and they never found the head. But although they had found the car and the wallet, surprisingly unscathed where it had been in a jacket pocket, they didn’t find Derek. Having towed the Camaro back to the house they kept on searching… with no result.

 

The men that had been arrested for Stiles’ murder, obviously minus the one that had ‘mysteriously disappeared’, lost a lot more than just their freedom the day they realised they were going down as cop-killers. And what Hunters they were. Young, arrogant kids with too much money who had thought they could hunt monsters like heroes out of some TV-show as long as they got some silver and some wolfsbane, now crying for mommy and daddy to come help them, easier said than done when the entire constabulary is against you. And how scared they were when faced with the real deal, before Derek they had never seen a real werewolf before, let alone a truly pissed off Alpha. But they got their fancy attorneys, trying to get by on not having actually pulled the trigger, but Chris had done his job well and planted not only a lot of illegal weapons in their cars but also narcotics, digging a deeper grave for these men who had taken down one of Beacon Hills’ finest. There were rumours going around about the crazies hollering about red-eyed werewolves killing their buddy but after one scene too many they ended up in the lunatic asylum at a high risk-prison with life-sentences and no parole. Lydia and the Whittemores may or may not have had a finger in there somewhere in that and if they did, no one mentioned it.

 

It wasn’t until almost 2 weeks after their world had shattered around them that the pack heard it, the low despairing howl, echoing from the woods. It wasn’t a call for help, wasn’t even a call for pack, it was a call for a mate that wasn’t going to come. They heard it again and again, low and faint, as they hurried through the woods but what they found wasn’t what they had expected.

 

They had expected to find their grieving Alpha, what they found was just a wolf, an animal, weak from not having eaten for a long time, with dirty fur and lifeless eyes, barely strong enough to avoid their touch. He didn’t fear them, that much was obvious, but he wasn’t seeking their comfort either. Derek Hale as they knew him was no more. They tried giving him water, tried feeding him but he touched neither, only pressed out weaker and weaker howls, only calling for his one and only mate.

 

Erica cried, curling up to the large body as much as she could when he was too weak to howl more. He had stopped fighting… so instead Isaak took over. He didn’t even seem embarrassed that his voice cracked halfway, he pressed out another one anyway because if Derek couldn’t call for Stiles then Isaac would… and when he broke down and cried Boyd took over. They continued like that, even the humans that were present, curling up to their Alpha, each one of them howling towards the stars and their Mother Moon, calling for Stiles, for pack, until the large black wolf drew a last deep sigh… and Scott's eyes slowly changed from yellow to red. As Derek's Second he was the one to take over. No one said a single word for a really long time after that.

 

-

 

The funeral was spectacular but what else would you have expected from Lydia, even a grieving one? So many people came to say goodbye that there wasn’t enough room to sit and many had to stand along the walls of the church, many couldn’t even get inside the doors. The funeral was for both Stiles and Derek, two closed caskets at the front, surrounded and adorned with flowers, so many flowers. The picture chosen had been from their wedding when they had thought no one had seen, a picture of Stiles fixing Derek's bowtie and smiling like he had been handed every possible dream, Derek looking at Stiles the exact same way. They had been so ridiculously happy that day, so sugary sweet together. It was a picture Erica had planned to frame and give to them on their next anniversary. How cruel of Fate this was how it was used instead.

 

Many gave beautiful speeches but John simply couldn’t handle it so he sat just there, tears constantly running down his pale cheeks, but otherwise silent. Melissa sat next to him, holding his hand hard when Scott went up to say a few words about his best friend and brother and the brother he had gotten in Derek but he choked and couldn’t finish. In the end Boyd finished his speech for him but although stoic, the Beta was far from unaffected. The pack held hands where they sat, hard so hard, hard enough to leave bruises on the humans, Lydia not caring that her mascara ran, Allison crying silently against Isaac's shoulder while Danny sat next to her, his shoulders trembling as he sobbed. Even Jackson, who was used to showing a cool façade, crumbled and cried openly, clinging to a pale Erica. Cora, who had been called home from one of her trips, looked like she was still in shock, her eyes puffy and red from crying. No one could blame her, her entire family was gone now.

 

There were so many people there, co-workers from Stiles’ lab, deputies that had worked with Derek, friends, neighbours, allied Alphas with their mates and Seconds, even a few witches that they had worked with. Both Dr Deaton and Ms Morrell were there, both paying their respects in silence. After the funeral ceremony most of the attendees went to the reserved assembly hall for coffee but the pack wasn’t really strong enough to socialise more than an hour or so. Not only had they lost the one person that kept them all together through thick and thin, that took care of all of them and genuinely cared about them, they had lost their respected Alpha and mentor too. They needed space to mourn and lick their wounds together. They brought John with them back to the house, sat him down in the couch and crowded close to him, all of them touching him to give and receive comfort. It would take a really long time before anyone would be able to smile properly again.

 

-

 

Derek sighed heavily, not willing to open his eyes yet. He was content, the sun shining down on his fur and warming him while gentle hands ran over his shoulders and flanks over and over again. A familiar voice, sweet and dearly loved, hummed softly on some tune he had likely heard on the radio while the heart beat a steady thump-thump in the chest under Derek's ear. The other ear twitched slightly when nimble fingers slid over it, earning a low chuckle.

“I know you're awake but it’s a nice day today so I guess I'll let you laze a little longer.”

 

The softly spoken words drew another deep sigh from the large animal but he made no effort to move. He was perfectly happy right where he was, in the embrace of his mate. He earned another low chuckle, this one more of a snort, when he nuzzled closer, a wet nose finding a warm armpit and staying there. Derek only opened his eyes, quickly glancing up when the other leaned down to press a soft kiss between furry ears, between his eyes, down on his snout and finally to furry lips. Warm honey brown eyes met him, so wonderfully _alive._ “Thank you for leading me back home.” Stiles murmured softly, his hands going back to stroke black hair. “I didn’t know where I was or where to go and there were so many people everywhere, so many shadows…” He sighed, sliding down a little further against the tree behind him. He looked healthier than before, his cheeks were rosier, the dark bags under his eyes were gone, his smile warm and gentle. “But then I heard you, I heard you howl, calling for me… and I followed the sound of your voice.” His smile grew, just a little. “Thank you for bringing me home.”

“I saw you die.” Derek rasped, his voice a bit hoarse from not having been used. He dug his arms in behind his mate’s back, not having been aware of when or how he shifted back. It wasn’t important. “I heard you whisper my name as you fell from that roof.”

Stiles winced, running his fingers through Derek's hair gently. “I'm sorry, I didn’t know.” He held his wolf closer when he felt him shake, when he felt tears wet the fabric of his favourite red hoodie.

“I wasn’t there.” Derek sobbed. “I couldn’t protect you and you died! I _lost_ you!”

“I'm right here.”

 

Finally hazel green, tears glittering in black lashes, dared properly meeting those wonderful amber coloured eyes. They held no scorn, no anger, no fear. Only love. He swallowed hard when a pale hand stroked over his cheek tenderly.

“What about the pack? And Scott? What about your dad?”

“You trained them well, Derek, they know what to do and they have each other to lean on. Dad has Melissa now, she’ll keep an eye on him, Scott will make a great Alpha and I'm sure Chris will help out keeping them all safe.” Stiles murmured. “What’s done is done and I don’t want to go back, even if I could.” Only now did he smell faintly of sadness. “I'm just sorry you died too.”

“I was lost the second you fell off that roof. You're my anchor, Stiles, I can’t function without you.” Derek nuzzled closer, filling all his senses with Stiles, with love and _mate_. He was so happy now that he had refused to go into that morgue because there was no telling what would've come of it and he had seen this fragile human hurt too many times before already. He hadn’t been there _in time_ , or at all, too many times already.

 

“You don’t have to worry anymore.” Stiles smiled, burying his nose in his lover’s hair and inhaling. “There’re no Hunters here, no rival Alphas, no psychotic witches…or bitches either for that matter…”

“…no swamp-trolls?”

The younger man laughed out loud, filling the sunny clearing with an equally sunny sound, not seeing the wolf grin but knowing he was doing it all the same. It was just how they were.

“I doubt it.” Stiles mused, sliding down a bit more. His gaze softened when it was right there, face to face with his Alpha, lover, husband, mate and so much more. “I missed you.”

“I'm right here.” Derek smiled, giving the words back, the worries of a different world, of a different world’s troubles and problems and fears, finally fading from his mind.

 

He smiled wider when lips pressed softly against his, tasting almost shyly like so long ago before they returned as confident of their welcome as ever. His blood sang when Stiles’ taste filled him, his wolf finally calm and happy at the back of his mind, the bond between them back and strong like it should be. He kissed hungrily, moving over a pale jaw to the vulnerable column where he pressed his nose to the soft skin and simply _breathed_. He was where he belonged, with Stiles. _Finally._

“Do you want to rest a bit more or do you want to get going?” Stiles mumbled some time later, no keener to break his hold on Derek than Derek was to let go of Stiles.

“Get going where?”

“Home, where else, Sourwolf? My mom wants to meet you, I think I've babbled her ears off about you.”

“Your mom?” Derek blinked.

“Yeah… your mom too. And Laura… and the others. They're here, waiting for you.” Stiles mused, managing to somehow get to his feet without dislodging the werewolf too much. Smiling, he took his beloved’s hand and pulled as he started walking. He grinned when he pushed some big leaves aside and moved so Derek could see. Down below, not far at all, were a bunch of houses and a small bay, more like a lagoon… and his family, aunties and uncles, his parents talking excitedly with a woman, a walking image of Stiles, most definitely his mother, Derek's younger siblings and cousins cheering loudly while playing in the water, under close supervision by the adults. Even Peter was there, laughing and smiling like he had once used to, while playing with his daughters and the other children, casting loving glances as his mate sitting in the sand smiling at him. It was something Derek hadn’t seen since before-… _before._ He swallowed hard when Stiles pulled on his hand again, making his way down the hill towards them all, knowing Derek well enough to take it slow and let it all sink in.

“Don’t worry about the others, they’ll get here eventually.” he said softly. “They’ll come home too… just like us.”

“…home.”

“Yeah.” Stiles squeezed his hands, his eyes just as full of love as on their wedding day. “Welcome home.”

**Author's Note:**

> This hit me over the head and demanded written in what, 5 hours? I hate Major Character Death-fics, I won’t touch them with a ten foot pole, why the hell did I write this!? Why, brain, why!? D8 Please be gentle in your comments.
> 
> I do not give permission to have any of my works put up on goodreads or any other such site.


End file.
